


Fallen Leaves

by nonopiimagines



Category: True Detective
Genre: As you do, Kissing, M/M, More tags later, Spoilers, Swearing, making out against trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 13:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonopiimagines/pseuds/nonopiimagines
Summary: What was he supposed to do? Deny this man? Let him fall apart, digging himself deeper and deeper, until he was no longer? Something inside him pushed him forward, to let the younger man fall into him, to protect him from the world outside, if only for a moment. Let him rest.





	Fallen Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the first leg of the investigation in this chapter, takes place in the 80s.

Driving him home became offering him his couch became helping him out of the car became holding him while he was shaking, shoes discarded on the floor, legs curled up on the couch, his face in his shoulder, leaving wet stains on his shirt. Earlier that day he had been flirting with the pretty woman from the catholic church, her number written on a piece of paper sticking out of the pocket of his forgotten jacket on the table. But there was something about this man, his big, tired eyes, his defeated, exhausted posture, his many attempts to maintain his composure in front of people only to break down completely in front of him. What was he supposed to do? Deny this man? Let him fall apart, digging himself deeper and deeper, until he was no longer? Something inside him pushed him forward, to let the younger man fall into him, to protect him from the world outside, if only for a moment. Let him rest. 

When all had been let out and the shaking had stopped, a silence descended upon the house. Roland was sure Tom had fallen asleep, his breathing was even and calm for the first time in days, maybe even weeks. He was frozen in place, not wanting to disturb the momentary peace they had found. Even if he was hesitant to admit it to himself, it felt good to be holding someone. To have someone this close to him, to feel their heat radiating off their body, it made him feel alive in a way his time as a detective never could. He just didn’t expect it to be a man that sparked that feeling in him, let alone Tom. 

Somewhere in his mind he acknowledged that this was against protocol. It would skew his involvement with the investigation and now was not the time to be letting his heart drive his actions. They were on a plateau, no new leads or evidence; this was where him and Wayne truly shined, retracing their steps, reanalyzing, thinking outside the box. He needed all his effort in the investigation.

Tom would understand that. Tom would want that. 

Cemented in his decision, he knew he couldn’t fall asleep on the couch with Tom in his arms. It only made it harder waking up next to someone when he knew he was going to have to leave them in the morning, he knew himself that well. Still, he was gentle, unwilling to wake the other man, sliding his arms into a position where he could carry him away from the loveseat to the longer couch. He took note of how featherlight Tom was and the haunting way his face carried the shadows from the lights in the kitchen. 

Blankets from the closet, a glass of water and two aspirin on the coffee table, finally he put a cigarette in his mouth. He patted his pockets for his lighter, but it must’ve been in his jacket pocket with that woman’s phone number. Lori, was that her name? It didn’t matter. He watched Tom’s chest rise up slowly and sink back down, the unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth, knowing that taking his work home with him was a big mistake.

\---

“Hey, don’t get upset on my account. It’s my job to get shot at.” Roland hoped he sounded even half as cheerful as he was trying to be. Those big brown eyes were staring at him again, the sad helplessness in them becoming familiar. They disappeared momentarily as bony fingers rubbed over them to try to wipe the exhaustion away, but they always came back.

“Yeah, but just,” he trailed off, his eyes wandering for anchor to hold him, to let him find his words. “I would hate for something to happen to you.” Tom looked as though he wanted to say more, like words were going to spill out of his throat but he held on to them, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

They sat in Roland’s house again, on opposite couches. In his head he knew he was in trouble, but he couldn’t say no to Tom. Every instinct clawed its way out of him to protect this man, against any logical thought or argument. And this time it wasn’t even about Tom, it was about him and the hole in his leg. When he gazed out of the peephole on his door to find a dark-haired man with a god-damned vase of flowers and mylar balloon that said “get well soon” in a gaudy font, his fist held up like he was thinking about knocking again, Roland couldn’t say no. And this time he couldn’t argue that it was for Tom’s sake because, in all honesty, it was nice having someone who wasn’t Wayne worried about his wellbeing. 

So the flowers and balloon sat on the coffee table where water and aspirin were a few days before, partially obstructing Tom’s face as he leaned his elbows on his knees and threaded his fingers through his hair. Whatever he was thinking about, he was agonizing over it and Roland was just content to sit there and watch him deliberate. Getting shot didn’t give him any clarity on the intricacies of life and what was and wasn’t important, but it did give him that thin sliver of reason why it was okay to watch Tom now and think about Tom in ways he hadn’t thought about a man before and wonder why it wouldn’t be okay now that Woodard would be sentenced posthumously. It would all be over soon, could he relax now? Could Tom? 

“Roland.” Tom looked ready to say what was on his mind, a seed of determination set in his expression that he had never seen before. He liked it. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for the kids. I wish they could’ve met you--”

“No, Tom, it’s okay.” His smirk turned into a frown, discomfort rising in his chest. He’d never been around children much. He was crass, inappropriate at times, and carried a gun. He was not meant to be around children and yet, Tom believed him to be someone they could look up to. Inadequacy wasn’t a feeling he was used to, but here it was filling him to the core, causing him to shift uneasily in his seat.

Tom’s eyes were on him again as he moved his hands to his knees. “No, let me finish.” He paused, waiting for Roland to say anything but he sat waiting in silence, enraptured by the shift in attitude from the man before him. “Detective West, my kids would have loved you. Thank you for putting their story to rest. Thank you for giving Lucy and me closure.”

Roland could only watch as Tom looked away again, biting his lip. He must not have said the words he was still hesitant to say. His leg was beginning to ache again, but he stayed completely still on the couch, not wanting to ruin what progress Tom had already made because he had an inkling about what he was going to say. Or maybe he had thought about it enough times himself that he was eager to hear the same from the object of his affections.

“There has been so much pain around this,” Tom began, still looking away, but his words stronger than they’ve ever been. “But I’m glad to have met you, Roland. You’ve made it bearable. And I think I can go on now, because of you.”

There. That was it. 

“You are stronger than you think you are, Tom.” Roland shook his head, patting the seat next to him, beckoning Tom to move closer. The pain in his leg completely washed away as the cushion next to his dipped down, dark-brown eyes raking up and down his face wondering what was happening. “You didn’t need me but I will always be here.” 

He meant what he said and he wanted Tom to believe it too. He wanted to protect and heal this man, but he knew in reality it was Tom who wanted move past this tragedy toward a future where he could sleep through the night and wake up feeling something other than dread, sadness, and frustration. Roland tentatively brought his hand to Tom’s cheek, feeling the scruffy beard beneath his fingertips and the tickle of his coarse hair as it brushed the back of his knuckles. 

For a moment--this moment--it was just them. 

\---

Roland could see it in his face, he was ready to leave this town. All of his bags in the trunk, his finger holding the key to the ignition, Tom was set to move on, away from the place and the people that hurt him. 

“Take a walk with me. Just for a sec.” 

The offer hung in the air, Tom’s face softening as he gave in. He stuffed the keys back in his pocket and got out of the car, giving Roland an expectant look before closing the door behind him.

“Lead the way, detective.” 

Roland simply nodded, beginning to walk down the sidewalk, Tom walking a few steps behind him. It was slow going, he still wasn't used to his cane and the stiffness in his leg, but he wouldn't stop. They hadn’t talked since that night, Roland was sure he had made Tom uneasy with his forwardness. He remembered vividly the way his eyes closed, the way he leaned into his palm, the way the warmth spread from Tom into his body. He remembered the way he wanted to slide his arms around the younger man and hold him like he did that first night he slept on his couch, but the pain from his leg prevented him from moving any further. What he didn’t want to remember was the way Tom’s eyelids flew open, the look of realization on his face as he jumped up and excused himself, barely remembering to grab his coat on the way out the door. 

But he wasn’t here to push him into anything. He wasn’t here to get answers for that night or to force a confession from Tom. And he definitely wasn’t here to push all of his own feelings on him. Roland was here to apologize and promise that what he said that night was still true: he will always be there for him. 

The houses were beginning to thin out into forest, the fall foliage had mostly fallen to the ground, leaving the trees barren and a golden path underneath them. Tom hadn’t turned back yet and Roland hoped that was a good sign, though he still refused to walk next to him despite how slow he was with his injured leg. Eventually, he veered off the path and leaned up against a larger tree, letting his leg rest for a moment. He intended to go on a bit further, but Tom walked up and stopped right in front of him, trapping him with his back up against the tree. 

Tom didn’t seem keen on moving, so Roland decided whatever he was going to say, he was just going to say it here. No one was around, there were enough thin, wiry trees to block them from the view of the road, they were alone for the time being. 

“Tom, I apologize if I offended you.” He didn’t mean to be so blunt about it. He was going to try to fancy it up a bit, explain why it happened and why it wouldn’t happen again. But Tom just stared at him, unimpressed and any good, well-thought-out explanation left his brain.

“You’re offending me now.” Something about the way Tom held his arms at his sides, the way his eyes held some sort of defiance in them made Roland smile.

“How’s that?” He couldn’t keep the teasing tone out of his voice. He liked seeing Tom with confidence in his body, in his voice, his eyes sparkling with something new. 

“You walk me all the way out here to say sorry?” He took a step closer to Roland, intent on making his point. This close, he could see Tom’s freshly trimmed beard and shine of his hair still slightly damp from a shower taken not too long ago. “Could have done that at my car.” 

There was something electric in the air as Tom stared down Roland, expecting something from him. Daring him to make a move again, would it be the same mistake twice? Maybe this was his chance to keep it professional, a second chance to set the tone of this relationship. But would he ever see Tom again after today? The Purcell case was closed and Tom was on his way out of town. This was it. Fuck professional.

Roland took the dare. 

“Come here then.” He felt giddy and he knew he looked it because he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He grabbed the younger man’s hips, pulling him against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He could vaguely hear the sound of his cane falling into the sea of leaves covering the ground, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He buried his face in Tom’s dark, curly hair, smelling the shampoo he’d used earlier that day, the cool, dampness of it only making his skin feel hotter. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he mumbled near Tom’s ear.

“I want this.” Tom’s reply was quick and his voice shaky, but Roland couldn’t focus on it as he felt the light brush of lips against his collarbone, their presses growing stronger as they ascended his neck. A kiss on his jaw prompted him to growl, low and rumbling, and dip his head to capture Tom's lips with his own. He tasted like toothpaste and coffee, not a pleasant blend of flavors, but it was infuriating all the same because this would be the first and probably the last time Roland would ever experience this with him. So he savored every part of it as he pulled Tom closer to him, flipping them around so he could have better control. His leg threatened to give way beneath him, but he'd be damned if his fucking leg was going to keep him from this man. Instead, he watched Tom's face as he placed his forearms on either side of his head, leaning heavily on the tree, his eyes burning into the man beneath him. Tom’s mouth was agape, his cheeks ruddy and his nose red from the cold, crisp air, his big brown eyes were shining as they held his heated gaze, egging him on, imploring him to continue with whatever this was they were doing. 

So he kept kissing him, slowly at first but eagerly taking every opportunity to dip his tongue into Tom’s mouth when he would let him. Roland let his hands wander up and down Tom’s torso, layered in flannels and a coat but still giving off so much heat. Eventually, Tom's hands found their way up his neck and into his hair, sending little shivers down his spine as he raked his fingers through it, playing with the few strands that tickled the nape of his neck. It drove him crazy, pushing him to sloppily place open-mouth kisses down the younger man’s neck, occasionally grazing his teeth over his hot skin, letting the cold air wash over it when he was satisfied. Tom’s breathing was ragged, little puffs of clouds dissipating into the air with each breath. 

“Fuck, Tom.” It was all Roland could think to say after he shifted to put his knee in between Tom’s thighs causing him to moan. He fisted a hand in his hair, something he never knew he wanted but the sensation shot straight to his groin with the sounds Tom made echoing in his ear. 

His leg made it damn clear that he couldn't this up much longer, regardless of the heat radiating off of Tom's body and the hardness he could feel shifting against his knee. God, he never wanted this to stop. Roland let his body settle flush against the other man, hoping he could feel how much he wanted this too, wondering how much better this could be under different circumstances. Tom deserved better. 

He was about to kiss Tom again when a loud truck passing by on the road caused him to break out of his reverie. He reluctantly let go of Tom, pushing away from the tree and stretching to look towards the road, searching through the trees for anyone nearby but finding nothing. When he turned back, Tom gave him an apologetic look, his arms coming up to fold against his chest, shielding himself against embarrassment and hurt. They stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other, their breathing returning to normal, wondering what someone could possibly say that didn’t end this situation with heartbreak. 

So Roland said what he thought Tom needed to hear. “I’ll walk you back to you car.”


End file.
